


Office Hours

by papermoon2719



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Police, Cunnilingus, Frottage, Multi, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13543056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermoon2719/pseuds/papermoon2719
Summary: After finding out you have to repeat a course to get your diploma, your best friend Wanda decides to break you out of your self-loathing and takes you to New York City for a much needed break. While you’re there you meet Steve, a Brooklyn-born gentleman who convinces you to spend a whirlwind night with him. Back at home a week later, you walk into your elective 2D art class to see that mystery-man Steve is actually Professor Rogers, and your planned long-distance romance is an obvious no-go. A few weeks later a gruff but charming Sergeant for the local police department moves in next door. Despite months of dating, you find you’re still in love with Steve. What will happen after graduation? And what secrets are Bucky and Steve hiding? *cue Law & Order: SVU theme music*





	1. Prologue

“Rise and shine, buttercup.”

I groan, pulling the covers tighter around my head. I feel Wanda pat my hip as she moves around my room, pulling blinds open and shuffling stuff around. From the sound of it she’s tidying up, something that I haven’t done all weekend.

“Go away, pest,” I mutter, burrowing deeper into my sheets. Wanda only tisks and sits down next to my hip.

“No. You’re getting up. I made us a nice breakfast to counteract all the crap you’ve been eating this weekend. Then we’re going to the gym, and when we get home we’re registering you for next semester.”

As grumpy as I feel, the lump in my throat doesn’t appear until she mentions school. It’s the reason for my depression, that one stupid class and that one stupid professor setting me back an entire semester. I was so close, just two semesters away from graduating, when I bombed one final. It was a class that was required for me to begin my field internship (also required). And my brain short circuited during the final. And the Professor? She was a bitch. 

“Wanda, please let me stew in my self pity,” I say softly, willing her to leave with the sheer power of my mind. Like any good friend would in this situation, she completely ignores me and grabs the edge of the comforter, sliding underneath with me. 

“How about just breakfast? Then we can talk about the other stuff, okay?” she says just above a whisper. I glare at her for a moment but finally cave, nodding minutely. Truth be told, I was a little sick of this slump, no matter how tempting it was to stay in it. I knew the only way it would get better would be to get back into a routine. 

“Fine. Breakfast,” I finally agree. Wanda smiles brightly at me before we both toss back the comforter, climbing out of the bed and heading out to the kitchen. I can’t help but smile softly at the fact that Wanda had set our two-chair diner-style table for breakfast, complete with a small bouquet of daisies. 

“Sit!” she commands brightly, walking over to the oven.

I practically bounce up and down in my seat when she pulls out a plate piled high with kiflik, a favorite recipe of her mother’s. She also pulls out a pan of scrambled eggs and sausage. She walks over and serves me before herself, pouring my coffee and orange juice before filling her own plate.

I pick up a kifli and bite into it, nearly laughing at the guava filling. Not traditional, but my favorite.

“Thanks for this, Wan,” I say around the mouthful of pastry. Wanda shrugs, giving me a half-smile. 

“It’s what best friends are for. Manhandling you out of bed so that you don’t shrivel into nothing,” she replies, taking a bite of scrambled egg. I giggle, taking another bite of kifli. 

We eat in comfortable silence, taking our time. When we’ve finished I volunteer to do the dishes, returning Wanda’s knowing smile. I was starting to feel a bit better, more optimistic. I’ve just finished loading the dishwasher when I hear Wanda’s phone ring. The apartment is small enough that I can overhear and decipher it’s Pietro. She’s speaking to him in Slovenian so I can’t understand what she’s saying, but I figure she’s interested in what he’s saying from her tone. 

I finish wiping down the counters as she walks back into the kitchen, a sly smile on her face. I look at her and raise an eyebrow. 

“Oh, God, what did you volunteer me for?” I groan, tilting my head and looking at her as pathetically as I could. 

“No, it’s not that!” Wanda exclaims. “You know how Pietro is working as a super for a bunch of AirBNBs in Brooklyn?”

I nod, looking at her skeptically.

“Well,” she continues, “there was supposed to be a couple staying in one of them next week and they cancelled, and it’s too late for the owner to rent it out, so Pietro convinced him to let us come stay there instead.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep myself from saying ‘no’ outright. Wanda sticks out her bottom lip, giving her best Puss in Boots stare. 

“I don’t know, Wanda,” I start, “it’s the holidays and I don’t know how my parents are going to take me not coming home. I’m  _ always _ home for holiday break.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at me and huffs. “Okay, one, you’re a grown ass adult. Two, if you don’t come with me I’m going to be stuck with my stupid brother and his stupid friends,” she whines. She grabs my hands and looks at me dramatically. “Please?!”

I bite my lip again as I look at her. A week in the Big Apple  _ did _ sound nice, and I had been saving up for something special. Why not spend it on this?

“Fine,” I groan, grimacing and laughing as Wanda whoops and jumps on me in a hug. “Okay, okay, crazy pants. Let me go call the Momster and let her know I won’t be there for the holidays.”

Wanda’s still cheering as I make my way into my bedroom to call my parents. I was already getting excited about going, much to my own surprise. As I listen to the line ring I think about all of the things I’m going to say to convince my parents that I wasn’t going to end up in a ditch or sold into the sex slave or become a living episode of  _ Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. _

_ I need a break; I’m an adult; it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up; Wanda has no family and shouldn’t be alone; the odds of me getting raped and kidnapped are slim; what could go wrong? _

Right?

 


	2. Chapter One

When Wanda and I decided to spend our last night in NYC partying, this is  _ not _ what I had planned. We’d been your stereotypical tourists up until now. So far, we’d

  * Visited Ellis Island (and almost froze to death)
  * Visited the 9/11 Memorial (and almost froze to death)
  * Visited the Empire State Building (and almost froze to death)
  * Gone for a carriage ride through Central Park (and almost froze to death)
  * Eaten at every restaurant and eatery my food-centered mind had found on FoodNetwork.com (and thawed out)
  * Gotten lost a grand total of 7 times (and only thought we were going to die twice)



So, naturally, we wanted the trip to end with a bang. As of this moment, that’s looking quite literal for me, seeing as I’m pressed up against a wall in the AirBNB’s living room, my legs wrapped around the waist of a man who I had only known for about four hours, sucking on his tongue like my life depended on it.

Steve (if that’s even his real name) was a Brooklyn-born, six-foot-four tower of delicious man meat. He’d been sitting at the bar eyeing me for the first hour we were there, and Wanda had  convinced tricked me into going up to the bar to get our next round. Steve and I started talking, and then dancing, and then pretty much just grinding on each other. I’d felt how hard he was during a particularly long, slow grind during  _ Guys My Age _ , and he’d groaned in my ear when I tugged his hand down between my legs to feel how wet I was through two layers of thermal leggings. 

_ Wanna get outta here?  _ he’d growled in my ear, and all I could do was nod. I’d told Wanda we were going back to the apartment and to let Pietro know our code word if I needed help from him down the hall.

And that’s how I’d ended up here, propped between a wall and a hard man, moaning like a wanton whore as Steve worked my clit through my leggings. He pulled away as my hips bucked against him and gave me a mischievous grin.

“Think you could come like this, baby?” he asks, sliding his finger down to my hole and pressing the heel of his hand against my clit. The rough fabric creates a delicious friction and I nod, biting my lip and letting my head fall back against the wall.

“Make me come, Steve,” I whine, rolling my hips against his hand. He growls and tugs his hand out from between our bodies, but before I can protest he props his knee up against the wall and positions me so his thigh is tucked between my legs. I let out a strangled moan as the thick muscle presses up against my entire cunt, and I cry out when he flexes it, the thick, hard plane of it rolling deliciously against my folds.

“Ride it, baby,” he urges breathlessly, one hand going to my hip as the other props him up against the wall. I have to stand on my toes, but having my arms wrapped around his shoulders helps to give me enough leverage to start moving. 

It doesn’t take long before I’m a complete mess, moaning and pressing sloppy kisses to Steve’s mouth as I continue to drive myself towards my orgasm. I reach it when Steve flexes his muscle again, my cunt flooding my panties enough that I’m sure it’s soaked through onto Steve’s trousers.

He barely lets me come down from my high before he’s scooping me up and walking towards the bedrooms. 

“Which one’s yours?” he pants against my throat, going back to suck on it. 

“Left,” I manage, my fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

I bounce dramatically when Steve drops me on the bed, not wasting a minute as he drops to his knees and unzips my boots. He tosses them aside, reaching up to push his hands under my dress and start tugging down my leggings. 

I can't help the moan that escapes when the cold air hits the core of my soaked panties, and Steve let's out a strangled groan. 

“ _ Fuck _ you smell good,” he moans, tugging the leggings completely off and tugging me to the edge of the bed by the backs of my knees. My head falls back as he kisses his way up the inside of my thigh, biting at the flesh of it as his fingers sneak under the elastic of my panties. 

I buck against him as he fingers me slowly, the soft squelching of his fingers moving inside me adding fuel to my already approaching second orgasm. His tongue presses against my clit through my panties and I shudder.

“Oh, fuck. Please fuck me,” I babble, reaching down to pull Steve away from my dripping cunt. “I really need you to fuck me.”

And it's like my words flip a switch; Steve is suddenly tearing his clothing off before pulling me up and tugging my dress over my head. He turns me around roughly, getting a moan from me as he undoes my bra and palms roughly at my breasts before bending me forward over the bed. 

“Shit,” I hear him mutter, and I look over my shoulder to see he's rummaging through his jeans. 

“I don't have a condom,” he spits, looking furious. My eyes bounce down to his drooling cock and my mouth waters. 

“You're clean?” I pant, ignoring my high school health teacher screaming about  _ ALWAYS USE PROTECTION _ in the back of my mind. Steve nods, raising an eyebrow. 

“Me, too. And I have an IUD, so just go bareback,” I pant, my pussy aching to be filled. I tilt my hips slightly, baring myself to him, and I can actually see his resolve snap.

We moan in tandem as he slides in, then the room is filled with the slapping of skin and harsh moans. I hear the rush of air a moment before his palm collides with my ass and I let out a whine, dropping my arms and pushing myself back against him.

“You like that, little girl?” he grinds out, hardly waiting for my muffled “Fuck, yes” before bringing his hand down again. 

I feel my cunt clench with every  _ crack _ of his palm against my backside, and it's not long before I'm coming again, fisting the sheets until my fingers hurt. 

Suddenly Steve stills behind me and I can feel his hands tighten on my ass, spreading my cheeks while he comes deep inside me. 

“Stay there,” he pants, pulling out of me with a hiss and leaning down to press a kiss to my lower back. I do as he says and let out a hiss of my own when he returns with a warm washcloth, cleaning me. I find it to be an oddly intimate action for a one night stand and swallow back a pang of guilt. If circumstances were different, I could actually see myself dating him. 

As it always is after a random fuck, getting dressed is slightly awkward. I tell him I'd offer to let him spend the night if it weren't for Wanda. He says it's probably for the best as he's leaving the next day for a new job in a different town. It makes me a little sad that I won't be falling asleep in his arms. 

I walk him to the door and he leaves with a lingering kiss that somehow feels promising. Then I watch him walk down the hall and out the door and have to fight back tears. 

_ The coast is clear. _

I plug my phone in at the kitchen counter after texting Wanda, and that's when I notice the scrawl on the notepad by the microwave. 

_ 929-846-3291 - Just in case you need child support in nine months.  _

_             -Steve _

“Oh my God,” Wanda suddenly squeals from behind me, bouncing into the apartment. She practically sprints over to me, pulling me into a hug before shoving me away. 

“You smell like sex.”

I give her a pointed look and hold up the note, waving it in her face. 

“Dude, you got laid  _ and _ the hottie gave you his number! I  _ told _ you this trip was a good idea!” Wanda squeals, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down. 

I figured I'd concede this argument and jumped along with her. Maybe this  _ is _ supposed to have a happy non-guilt-laced ending. 

 


End file.
